1 min read
Слушать(AI)Witch-Wife
She is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs; In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can, And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man, And she never will be all mine.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay (February 22, 1892 – October 19, 1950) was an American lyrical poet and playwright.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Indifference
I said,—for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,— I'll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed; But I'll never leave my pillow, though there be some As would let him in—and take him in with tears
Recuerdo
We were very tired, we were very merry — We had gone back and forth all night upon the ferry It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable — But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on the hill-top underneath the moon; ...
Sonnet What Lips My Lips Have Kissed
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there...
If I Should Learn In Some Quite Casual Way
If I should learn, in some quite casual way, That you were gone, not to return again— Read from the back-page of a paper, say, Held by a neighbor in a subway train, How at the corner of this avenue And such a street (so are the papers filled) A hu...